


R. Lutece

by stelladora



Category: BioShock Infinite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:37:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3150875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelladora/pseuds/stelladora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detailing Robert's adjustment to his new life in Columbia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	R. Lutece

**Author's Note:**

> "The struggle itself is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy." -Albert Camus

“Robert? Can you hear me?” _That voice again._ “There’s a doctor here to see you. Don’t worry, I’ve secured his discretion.” _What?_ “Well, Madame Lutece, I’ll certainly do my best, but of course…I can’t guarantee results…” _New voice. The discreet doctor._ “I’ll be grateful for any insight you may give. I… I’m not sure what I can do. This isn’t quite my area of expertise…” _Rosalind, please don’t worry._

* * *

“Well, my boy, welcome back to the land of the living!”

“Oh, thank you very much Doctor Miller. Robert, how are you feeling?”

Voices swam inside Robert’s head as he opened his eyes for the first time in several days. He’d been in a state of semi-consciousness for what seemed like ages, ever since…something. An accident. In the lab—he’d fallen from a ladder while taking measurements from one of the generators—

“Robert?”

The urgent voice stabbed through his thoughts, calling back his attention. Rosalind. “Yes, yes,” Robert mumbled, his voice hoarse.

“Take it easy there, son.” A man in a stuffy grey suit laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, guiding him back to the pillows of the bed. “We shouldn’t have you jumping back all at once. Can you tell me how you’re feeling?” His voice sounded apprehensive, as if Robert may suddenly lapse back into unconsciousness.

Robert took his time taking stock of his body, thinking of the physical sensations he’d been unaware of for so long. “May I have some water?” he finally managed to ask. His throat felt like sandpaper, and his mind felt clouded. He didn’t recognize this room, with its large picture window and red-papered walls. It was far more elegant than the room he’d been renting in Bowery street. Conscious of an irritation on his face, Robert raised a hand to his nose, discovering the blood trickling out of it.

“He’s having another of those spells,” Dr. Miller announced, quite unnecessarily, in Robert’s opinion. Rosalind fetched a towel from the washstand, which he obediently held to his nose. Clearly whatever bump on the head he’d received had been bad enough to warrant all this unwanted attention.

“Listen, I feel fine. My head aches a bit, and my throat is killing me, but I certainly don’t need all this,” Robert said with as much dignity as he could while pinching his nose.

“Robert, dear, you’ve been unconscious for a week now,” Rosalind informed him. That earned a silence from him, during which Rosalind continued—“If you’ll just cooperate for a while longer, Dr. Miller can finish his assessment and then we’ll be out of your hair.” Her tone left no room for negotiation, not that Robert would have attempted any.

A week? She must be exaggerating. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours, surely? Once his nosebleed ceased, Dr. Miller continued his examination, asking Robert to sit up, take a few strides about the room, and recite certain facts about himself.

“It would seem his fine, then,” Rosalind interjected after a few moments. “Thank you for all your assistance, Dr. Miller. If you’ll wait in the sitting room, I’ll join you in one moment.” The man obeyed, easily swayed by Madame Lutece’s influence and money. Once they were alone, Rosalind turned to her brother.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” he said before she had time to speak. Her face softened while she guided him to sit down in an armchair next to the window.

“That’s to be expected. Miller will be gone soon, and then we’ll discuss the situation. In the meantime, here,” she left his side to open the armoire, handing him several voxophone records. “Listen to these while I’m gone, will you? I’ve labeled them chronologically.”

While Robert looked down at the records now stacked on the side table, Rosalind left the room, obviously not wanting to keep the doctor waiting. Robert sighed, wishing he could just get a straight answer. Why did a simple fall merit such worry? The ladder couldn’t have been that high—no, it hadn’t been a ladder…He’d collapsed after stepping through the tear with the girl— Robert quickly stopped that train of thought; it was making his head ache even worse. _What happened to me?_ He wondered. With trepidation, he began to play the first of his sister’s voxophones.

* * *

 

A quarter of an hour later, Rosalind knocked at the door before entering Robert’s room. He looked up from where he’d been staring at the floor, holding the same bloody towel after yet another nosebleed. “It’s difficult to think of it all without this happening,” he mumbled, gesturing to his nose. Thankfully it had only been a small episode.

“Your body is rejecting the cognitive dissonance through—”

“Confusion and hemorrhage, yes,” Robert finished for her. “So you said. Knowing what’s happening doesn’t make it any more pleasant, though.”

“I’m sorry,” Rosalind said after a moment. Clearly she was at a loss for what to say to him, now that they were face to face.

“Don’t be. I knew there would be repercussions.” His words didn’t seem to soothe her. After a moment, she took a seat on the bed, staring sadly at him. He couldn’t help but smile. “Now, now. Remember what mother used to say. If you keep frowning, your face will stick like that,” he reminded her playfully. This is what they’d wanted. They were together now, and he would hate to let their first real moments together be marred so.

Rosalind managed a smile, realizing, as he did, that it was useless to mope. If there was one thing she hated, it was wasted time. “And she kept saying it, no matter how many times I reminded her that it was a physical impossibility. Come now, let’s get you cleaned up. Imagine how she would yell at you if she knew you’d spent a whole _week_ lying in bed doing nothing.” The two of them chuckled, both surprised by their shared memories. The same mother, same childhood, in two different realities.

Robert stood and hesitantly made his way over to the washbasin, washing his face while Rosalind retrieved his clothes from the armoire. “I’m afraid we’ll have to purchase you an entire new wardrobe,” she reported. “I don’t believe anything of mine would be suitable.”

“Pity,” Robert frowned, crossing the room to change his clothes. “I do love that skirt.” The two smirked at the same moment.

Resuming her seat on the bed, Rosalind watched as Robert, turned away from her, dressed. Surely there had to be some differences between them, both physically (apart from gender) and in their upbringing. It warranted further investigation. “We’ll need to settle on an explanation for you,” she eventually said. “The citizens of Columbia are perfectly willing to eat up even the wildest stories, but I worry about the repercussions of telling them an alternate version of me appeared from another reality.”

“Yes, that could get quite complicated,” Robert mused, buttoning his shirt. He paused, then turned to Rosalind. “I believe I may have a solution. In my confusion after my arrival, I somehow developed the conviction that you were my sister.”

Rosalind pursed her lips, thinking it through. “That should placate them. A twin brother, newly arrived from the ‘Sodom below’ to be saved.”

“And to help you with your research,” Robert prompted her as he finished with his toilette.

“Of course, _dear brother_. You have some catching up to do, yes?”

Robert frowned. One of the biggest differences between them was the progress Rosalind had made with the Lutece field. She had created Columbia, after all, and Robert was still observing individual atoms. How had she gotten so far ahead? _Not that it’s a competition_ , Robert reminded himself. _A victory for one of us is a victory for both of us, is it not?_


End file.
